~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
One by one, the leaves decide.
Who will go first? Who will hold on?
Who will be the last to go?
Already some could not resist
the chance to ride the wind
and fly, free of all restraints,
to sail birdlike on the wings of air.
Most waited, savoring the familiar view,
savoring its changes. Neither choice
was right or wrong. Time would tell them
when to fly. And time, the creek told them,
has its way of doing things
in exactly the perfect order.
A turn of the calendar’s page, and here’s September,
come to bridge the seasons, to provide a pathway
into fall. The green of the trees still sings of summer,
but the first of autumn’s leaves have begun to tumble
down, to gather at the edges of streams and roadways.
It happens like that, gradually, so that you hardly notice.
Beneath the bridge, time’s stream flows endlessly on.
A flicker of tan caught my eye
and, expecting a butterfly,
I glanced toward the window.
“Oh! A deer!” I said aloud,
surprised as a graceful fawn
ambled into view, then paused,
surveying the scene, listening,
every muscle in its body ready
to bound away. A Sunday messenger,
come as an unexpected guest,
so welcome a sight
for these world-weary eyes,
refreshing them, reminding me
the world still holds the wild and free.
“Certain colors are beautiful together; other colors aren’t.”
That’s what she said, standing before her freshman class
of art students. I remember finding that a curious thing
to say. “Take, for instance,” she continued, “pink and orange.
Each has its own fine qualities, but never, when combined,
can they be considered beautiful.” The students took notes.
I started drawing doodles, tuned her out, fell into dreams.
I thought of her today as I came upon the wildflowers.
I laughed. Tell it to the bees, I thought.
Clearly, I was not the only one who didn’t listen.
I looked at my list of tasks as my friend and I entered the store. Shopping for groceries was only our first stop of several. I was mentally planning our itinerary when my friend suddenly stopped one step into the produce section.
“Look,” she said waving her hand to encompass the whole scene. “Everything we need to live is here.”
Her comment shot me back into the moment. In the center of the floor stood several large tables brimming with colorful produce. On one, tomatoes and onions, shiny bell peppers, ruffled heads of lettuce and ears of sweet corn. On another, bunches of red and green grapes and peaches, apples and pears. Each table’s contents were arranged with artful care. On lighted shelves behind them relishes and cheeses, specialty items, salads and drinks beckoned.
“I love the way you notice things like that,” I told my friend. She has a real knack for appreciation, one of the choices for happiness we all can make.
The key is noticing what you value.
She notices how things are designed, how they work. She goes through the world with an appreciative heart, and points out the cleverness of a tool’s design, the quality of materials, the efficiency or kindness of someone’s act, and says so.
Happy people are like that. They look for things to value in the present moment. That’s a key: Looking for what’s valuable right now, in the immediate present. What’s good here? What’s true? What’s beautiful? What’s alive in me right now?
Embracing the Contrasts
One way to do this is to look at your life as if it’s a movie, and the present moment is the movie’s current scene.
It may not be a pleasant one; it might be a tragedy or drama. But you can still appreciate it as a scene in your unique life—being fully conscious of what’s occurring, fully aware of what you’re experiencing and embracing it as a part of the totality of your life.
Genuinely happy people don’t deny life’s sorrows and disappointments. They appreciate the reality of them and experience their meaning and depths. But they equally embrace life’s delights and moments of beauty and goodness.
They’re aware of the contrasts that make up life’s diversity, and of the way the contrasts contribute to life’s richness and mystery.
Because of their total immersion in their lives, happy people learn that no experience is wholly good or wholly bad. It’s all a mix. And all of it contains something to be appreciated once you choose to see it.
Sharing the Good Stuff
Happy people actively look for things to appreciate in others and they share their appreciation in words. They let others know when they see their good qualities in action—their humor, their kindness, their courage, their creativity.
Sometimes they appreciate how well someone deals with their struggles and fears. And because they share what they appreciate in others, they build stronger relationships—in their workplaces, with their children, with their partners, and with friends.
They even disarm their adversaries by expressing sincere appreciation of their strengths. “Well done!” “Good move!”
They brighten the day for strangers by mentioning something the other has done well. “That was so kind of you!” “You packed that so efficiently!”
You never know when a simple comment will entirely change someone’s day.
As poet Elizabeth Barret Browning said, “Earth’s crammed with heaven.” Turn up your sense of appreciation this week and prove for yourself the truth in her words. You might just find your world transformed.
Warmly,
Susan
Image by Dhanesh Damodaran from Pixabay
From out of the darkness
golden petals burst forth,
fiery-rayed blossoms
that sing of the power
of the sun. Blazing life,
brimming with joy,
dancing to the song
of the ever-revealing
Yes.
A seed here, a breeze there,
some sun, some rain,
the tilt of a tiny blue planet
as it races around its star.
Who would think mere happenstance
could produce this harmony, this beauty!
Yet here it is, before our eyes:
Balance, a grace of design,
an artful juxtaposition
of varied hues and forms.
Nothing is out of place. Nothing’s missing.
Explain it as you will; the beauty remains
and surpasses all the theories.
The heart understands things
that words can never tell.
Here’s where the deer lie,
sheltered by sycamores,
cooled by the green leaves
of tall, wild sunflowers,
the sun filtering down
to kiss their pelts with warmth.
This is the place they dream of
in winter, the place they sing of
in lullabies to newborn fawns
in early spring as they lick
their soft hair and promise
them tomorrows filled
with flowers and sunshine.
The creek is still today,
its transparent surface mirroring
the lush growth along its banks,
capturing the clouds and the sky
as if to reflect back to them
their beauty. I stand in late summer’s
tall green peering into the creek’s
shadowed water, lucky enough to spot
brown fishes lazing among the rocks.
Some scenes are almost too perfect
to bear. And to stand in their midst,
tasting the fragrances, the breathing
of it washing against my skin,
is to feel honored somehow,
and blessed to be alive, here, beside
a still creek that mirrors the sky.
An unfamiliar quiet hangs over the lake today,
a kind of waiting for the high-pitched shouts
and laughter that danced over its waves
on every sunny day since June.
The children are gone, carried
from their homes just after sunrise
in bright yellow buses to the county’s schools.
The kids, I imagine, were filled with excitement,
glad for something new at last,
for reunion with old friends,
for moving once again toward grown-up.
But here at the lake, it’s awfully quiet.
I walk its shores and whisper to its waves,
“I know. I know.”